


Nothing, as it Should Be (Original Ending)

by auselysium



Series: Queer as Magic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, I'm Serious, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, this is going to be bittersweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auselysium/pseuds/auselysium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The original ending for Queer as Magic verse story, Nothing, as it Should Be.</p><p>(For the continuation of the Brian/Draco story, please read And So it Begins)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing, as it Should Be (Original Ending)

The next day, the streets are clear.  Businesses reopen.  Life in Pittsburgh returns to normal. 

It is time for Draco to go. 

Brian drives Draco back to his place on the other side of town.  The car ride is silent, just as it had been that first night. There is no talk of anything that has happened between them or what it all could possibly mean.  He says nothing about his drunken confession the night before or the look of possibility Draco had seen in his eyes.  There is no mention of waking up with his fingers still in Draco's hair, his chest pressed against Draco's back.  And Draco says nothing about how he had never felt that desired or happy in his whole life. 

Brian lets the car idle once they pull up to Draco's building.  Leaving all that could be said, unspoken.  He tells Draco to stay warm.  A petty sentiment, but the only one he has the ability to give.  Draco smiles sadly and puts his hand on Brian's knee.  Draco can’t help the melancholy that has seeped into his bones, even though he knows it is ridiculous.  How can he feel sad about losing something he was never supposed to have in the first place? 

“Thank you,” Draco says.   _For the ride, for turning me on, for making me come, for making me think, for reminding me how it feels to be alive._   Brian covers his hand with his own, giving it a squeeze.  Draco moves to pull away, but Brian does not let go. 

“I don’t believe in love.”  He says.  The statement is blunt and seemingly out of place.  Draco turns back towards him, cursing him for looking so beautiful in his discomfort.  His eyes focus on something outside his car door so he doesn't have to look at Draco. 

“I don’t.  It’s messy and complicated and you end up hurt or bitter or unhappy.  I don’t do boyfriends.  I don’t do relationships.  I don’t do romance or flowers or candlelight.  But you…” 

Draco waits. 

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.” 

 _You have no idea._  

“So if you’re around…come by Woody’s tomorrow night.  I’m meeting some friends there.”  He laughs and Draco can tell he feels ridiculous.  “I’ll buy you a drink.” 

“I’d say it’s a date, but I assume you don’t do those either?” 

“Nope,"  He replies easily.  Draco smiles. 

“Well, maybe I’ll see you there, then, hmm?”  Brian nods and Draco can tell he is relieved.  With a quick kiss to his cheek, Draco gets out of the car, wondering if it is more of beginning than he had originally  thought.   

He walks into his apartment and drops his keys on the side table next to the door.  The place seems smaller and it doesn’t smell the way he remembered it.  It feels like he has been away for months when in reality is has been less than 48 hours.  How could things have changed so much, in such a short amount of time? 

He drops to the couch, the old springs creaking under the weight.   _I should get a new couch,_ he thinks. 

The things in his apartment are cheap, poorly made, most having come with the place when he rented it.  He had barely had any muggle, American money when he first got here, as transferring any more than he had would have looked highly suspicious.  So he lived without a bed for the first month, sleeping on this musty old couch until he had worked enough to afford one. He bought his tiny twin mattress at one of those large, discount stores, the one which is always claiming their prices are so much lower than the competition.  It had still used up an entire paycheck.   

Once he started working more and saving up some money, it would have been easy to buy a bigger bed.  But buying anything muggle, anything to make his life here more comfortable, had seemed out of the question.   

This life here in Pittsburgh was temporary, or at least that is what he told himself.  So if he had invested in something of value - high-end sheets, a television…a friend – it would make this world more permanent.   

And that was Draco's worst fear:  That he would be trapped in this Muggle world for the rest of his life.  A place he didn’t understand or particularly like, surrounded by people who, if they did find out what he was, would undoubtedly recoil in fear.  At times, he had thought about going to New York, seeking out their Wizarding district.  At least there, people would understand him.  He wouldn’t have to hide so much.  But he knew with a Mark on his arm, he would be just as much of an outsider there as he was here.  Perhaps even more so, because they would know what the Dark Mark meant he was. 

But now, the thought of staying is not so completely petrifying.  For the first time in a while, Draco feels hope.  That perhaps it is better to look ahead, to seek happiness no matter where you are.  And it is Brian’s voice inside his head that answers, _You’re damn right it is._    

Draco spends the rest of the afternoon puttering around his apartment.  Cleaning dishes and dusting the few knickknacks he has acquired.  Later that evening he stands in front of his closet, picking out an outfit to wear to Woody’s the following night.  It seems superficial and girly, but Malfoy’s always put their best foot forward, no matter what the occasion.  And besides, he wants to make sure Brian doesn’t regret taking a chance on him.                         

At first, Draco does not recognize the knock at his door. No one had ever knocked on his door before, so he just assumes it is some noise from another apartment filtering through the thin walls.  But then it happens again, more forcefully.   

Draco undoes the locks and opens it cautiously, peering around the edge of the door as he does.  As soon as he sees the man standing there, he falls back away from the door, clutching at his heart in utter terror. 

He panics, thinking that he must have finally gone round the bend.   _This cannot be happening._ Hisheart races. He can barely stand let alone breathe.    
  
"Potter?"

*

The hallucination that is Harry Potter has the audacity to step into Draco's apartment. And smile. 

He scrambles further away from it, seeking a safer distance from this specter, on the other side of his couch.   

“Jesus, Malfoy.  It’s just me,”  The vision says.  It reaches out a calming hand.  “I can’t believe that I finally found you.  We’ve been searching for ages, trying to track you down.”  The ghost lets out a dumbfounded chuckle.    
  
_Do ghosts chuckle?_  Draco is speechless, his mouth completely dry.  He can only stare at him with unblinking eyes.  As much as he might try to write this off as some after affect of his hangover, it really is him.  Harry James Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy who Lived, the insistent thorn in his side, is in his apartment.  In Pittsburgh.  And he actually seems happy to see Draco, which is perhaps what is most bizarre of all.

Potter seems taller than Draco remembers.  His shoulders are broad underneath a nice fitting, wool overcoat.  His dark hair peeks out from underneath a navy wool cap, looking as wild as it has always been.  But his eyes.  They look far too old for his face, which is still youthful, especially with that crooked grin on his lips.  His eyes are so green.  How is it that in all the times Draco has faced off against Potter he has never noticed how breathtakingly green his eyes are?   

 “Why are you here?  How did you know I was here?”  Draco's voice trembles and shakes, just like his hands. 

Potter takes off his hat and toys with a loose thread.  “Well, we didn’t.  I’ve been on this assignment for nearly four months.  It took us almost two of those moths to decipher where you could have gone.  We tried to follow your magical signal but you really haven’t been using magic much at all have you?”  Draco shakes his head.  “Well, my team and I split up about three weeks ago. We sent officers to New York and Miami.  Even sent some guys up to North Dakota looking for you… You really live here?”  He says, finally taking in the sorry state of hisliving arrangement and grimacing slightly.   

“It’s convenient to work and you can’t beat the rent,”  Draco says quickly, suddenly defensive.  His brow furrows deeper before he asks, “So what are you, some Auror now?”   

“Yep.” 

“Oh, of course you are,”  Draco mutters almost to himself.  “But how? That’s three years training?  And you never even finished school…” 

“Neither did you.” 

“But I’m not a bloody Auror!” 

Potter purses his lips, having obviously learned some self-control.  “Everyone from our year was allowed to take our NEWT’s without going back to Hogwarts.  Once I passed the required tests, I was…fast tracked.”  He says, blushing.   

“Oh, of course you were,”  he mutters again. 

“Finding you was my first field assignment.” 

“And why exactly are you trying to find me?” 

“Your mother…” Harry looks down again at the hat in his hands, diverting his eyes and Draco immediately put up a hand to stop him. 

“Don’t.  Just… don’t,”  Draco orders.  The words are tight and constricted, just like his chest.  Even if it is true, he can’t hear it from him.  He can’t let Potter's mouth be the one to tell him his mother is dead. 

“No, Malfoy.  She’s fine.  She contacted us about five months ago when she was having trouble locating you on her own. She asked the Aurors for help and here we are.”   

“So…You’re not here to arrest me.  The ministry hasn’t changed their mind, ‘Oh just kidding Malfoy we actually do want to send you to Azkaban’?”   

“No.”  He says laughing again.  Draco takes offence because this whole situation is hardly funny.  Potter simply shrugs. “Your mother just wants you to come home.” 

 _Home._ Draco's chest swells at the simple thought of it.  

“Really?  But when I left, things weren’t exactly all sunshine and roses for someone like me.” 

“I know,”  Potter says sadly, as if that fact were his fault.   _Fucking hero complex_.  “But things are different now.  A lot has changed in the public opinion.  Arthur Weasley is Minister for Magic and…” 

“A Weasley is Minister?”  Draco says incredulously.  “Better off staying here then.”

“He’s doing a bang up job, if you want my opinion.” 

“Probably cause you’re married to his daughter by now.”  Draco can’t help but grin at the delectable familiarity of a verbal spar with Potter.   _I have rather missed being this testy_ , he thinks.   

But then something happens he doesn’t expect: Harry barks out a sharp laugh.  “I am most certainly not married to his daughter.  Surprised you haven't heard, actually.”  He adds as an after thought.   A silly smile passes over his face that Draco can't quite figure out before he regroups and continues.  “Anyway, Minister Weasley’s first act was to reach out to former Death Eaters, to show to the rest of England that it is time we put the war behind us.  To move forward as one society.” 

“That all sounds very utopian Potter, but not bloody likely.”   

“It’s seems to have worked so far.  At least enough so that your mother thinks it’s safe to come home.” 

Draco knows his mother wouldn’t go to such lengths if she weren’t sure that coming home was the right thing to do.  He knows he should feel elated.  Jubilant.  Euphoric!  This was what he had been waiting for these long, lonely months.  To know that he could return home.  Live his life the way he had always imagined it. 

Then why does it feel like a burden?  More like a decree then a choice? He closes his eyes, the answer appearing readily.  He sees Brian’s face, his lips curving up in that curious way they do when Draco has said something amusing.  His eyes shining under his dark lashes.  His cheeks flushed, his hair flirting around his temple.  

 _It was only two days. Two stupid, amazing, life-changing, perfect days.  But it was just sex.  Phenomenal sex and conversation and some inexplicable connection that you’ve never felt before with anyone else… But this is your fucking life, Draco!_   

“Malfoy?”  Potter’s voice and a soft hand on his shoulder interrupts his mental argument and he opens his eyes. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I have a portkey that will take us back to London.  I can activate it whenever you’re ready.”  Draco nods, pulling his eyes away from Potter's because they look at him with far too much compassion.   

“Oh, I almost forgot.  There’s something else.  Something, not exactly ministry related.  I had it with me…just incase I was the one to find you.”  He reaches into an inner pocket of his coat and hands Draco a long, black box.  Draco knows exactly what it is.    

He pulls off the lid and exhales an unsteady breath at the sight of it.  Hawthorne and unicorn hair. The wand that was meant for him and him alone.      

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t get this back to you sooner.” 

Draco lifts it out of the box and lets the heel of it rest in the palm of his hand.  It feels like a missing piece of him has been replaced.  He has another one, stashed away at the back of some drawer in him bedroom, a spare that his father had kept around the house, but it does not work for him the same way this one did.  He lets his fingers remember the smoothness of the wood, the fine quality of the craftsmanship, the power that flows, uninterrupted, from somewhere deep inside him, out through the tip.   

The air that fills his lungs is sweeter than it has been in nearly two years.  His heart beats more easily; his thoughts are clearer. 

And in that moment, he knows he has to go back.    

“Can we wait a few days?  Sunday perhaps?  There are some things I need to do.”

Potter nods. “Sure, take your time.  I’ll come by Sunday morning.  And Malfoy,” He looks up to where Potter stands by the door. “As strange as it might sound, I’m glad you’re alright.”  He smiles weakly, though Draco can't help but find it rather endearing smile. 

Draco returns the look and wonders when Potter started being nice to him.   _Perhaps when he saved my life._   Then a little voice in the back of Draco's head, which he would like to kick soundly on the shin, says, W _hich time?_    

As soon as he is alone again, he collapses onto the couch, his brain spinning a mile a minute.  There is too much to process, too much to take in.  His wand back in his possession, his mother alive and well. Harry bloody Potter in his living room being nice to him.  Brian’s face when he said he wanted to see him again and Brian’s lips and Brian's cock and Brian's broken, hopeless soul which he just wants to understand and heal because somehow it makes sense to him… 

It is much later that evening when his body and mind calm down enough to finally fall asleep.   

And he dreams of playing Quiditch, a friendly match against Potter...with Brian playing keeper.

*

There is nothing much for Draco to pack, only the few clothes he had brought with him.  He dusts off his trunk and pulls out the robes he had stowed in there.  They seem so terribly out of date to him now.  In fact, he had gotten so used to muggle blue jeans that he ponders for a moment if he’ll ever go back to wearing traditional clothes.  At the bottom of his trunk are a few more magical items, a bottle of broom polish and some Chocolate frog cards that must have been in there since he was eleven.  This whole other life, hidden away for the duration.   

It had taken a while after Potter left for Draco to remember: _You are a wizard_.  He certainly had done magic while being here.  Wandlessly, wordlessly, surreptitiously.  Always with a twinge of worry that someone might find out.  He had somehow buried that most essential part of himself, lost it somewhere amongst the despair and the loneliness and the uncertainty of the life he had been living. 

Draco repacks his robes, only remembering after folding the third set by hand that there is a spell he can use to fold them instead.  He takes some clothes off their hangers and places them in the trunk as well.  Then he surveys the rest of his small flat and realizes, there is nothing else here he wants to take.  Nothing in all of Pittsburgh to take home as a keepsake. 

 _Well, perhaps one thing, but he has to stay here._  

He goes to work and tells them he's leaving.  His boss yells, ranting about giving two weeks notice or some other bullshit, but Draco can’t be bothered to care. 

Then, he simply waits.  He puts on the outfit he had picked out the night before then sits, starring at nothing in particular until it is time to go to the bar.  He still doesn’t know what he'll do once he meets up with Brian.  Will he not give a shit that Draco is leaving?

Will he care too much?  

It’s Saturday night and the bar is packed with handsome men, laughter and music.  Everyone seems so carefree and the ones who aren’t, are drunk enough to pretend.  Draco doesn’t see Brian when he first comes in, so he takes a seat at the bar. 

The bartender recognizes him from the other night and does not ask for ID this time, but instead brings him his scotch without even needing to order.   

“Hey there, stranger.” Familiar hands fall onto Draco's shoulders and he sinks into the strong touch.  Brian's voice is soft and easy, the breath against your ear laden with the malted scent of beer, just as it had been the first night.  

“Imagine seeing you here.”  

Draco pivots on his bar stool, one eyebrow arched playfully.  “Imgaine that.” 

Brian smiles warmly, his eyes sweep over Draco's face and down his body, as if the one day that has passed since he last saw Draco was far, far too long.  “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Brian…” Draco starts but Brian cuts him off. 

“Come on.  People to meet.”  He grabs Draco's hand and pulls him towards the back of the bar.   

They approach a small table and see a rag-tag group of men sitting around it.  There is tall young man, somewhere in age between Draco's and Brian.  He is wearing a neon-green, shirt, stretched tight over his chest.  He seems quite excited about the fruity drink he is sipping.    
  
Next to him is a sad looking fellow.  He is older, wiser.  Like he can’t quite figure out why he is here of all places.  His clothes are simple and somewhat plain, but when the younger one says something in his ear, his face morphs into a handsome smile. 

The third one watches carefully as Draco and Brian approach.  He is a small, dark man with boyish features.  The scowl on his face could not be more contemptuous if Draco were Voldemort himself.  The man's brown eyes flit from Draco to Brian and Draco doesn’t know why, but he is suddenly overwhelmed by the need to put an arm around Brian’s waist.  When he does, Brian looks down at him quickly, before putting his arm around Draco's shoulders. 

“Well, well, well.  He is a cutie.”  The tall one says, stirring his drink with a straw. 

“Yes.  Quite impressive even by your standards, Bri.”  The one next to him comments. 

“And wait till you hear his accent.”  Brian says, smirking.  The groups eyes settle on Draco and he doesn't know whether to be offended or elated that he is so eager to show him off. 

“Am I your puppet now, then?”  Draco asks, deciding on feeling something in between. 

“Ooo…English.  Very yummy.” 

“Draco, this is Emmett, Theodore Schmitt and my best friend since I was 14, Michael.”  Draco tries giving a smile to the man at Brian’s elbow, Michael, but his scowl only depends.  The group starts to chatter, discussing one thing or another and Draco feels like this is his chance.  
  
“Brian.”  Brian turns to focus his concentration on Draco.  His resolve nearly falters when the smile he gives him is so relaxed.  “There’s something I need to tell you.  Can we go back to yours?”

“But you just got here.”  Brian's beautiful smile droops.    
  
"I know, but it's important.  We need to talk."

“First rule you need to learn after fucking Brian Kinney is he doesn’t 'talk'," Michael interrupts, his face as bitter as his tone.  "So why don’t you just leave him alone.” 

“Stay out of this, Mikey,"  Brian snaps, then turns back to Draco.  “Now?”

“Yes.”  Draco says seriously and he can tell he's made Brian worried.  Brian throws some money on the table and puts on his coat.  Draco notices the surprised look on Ted and Emmett’s faces and he hears the disgusted snicker from Michael, but he doesn’t care what they think.  All that matters in the moment is that Brian is taking him home so they can talk. 

When they get back to his loft, Brian immediately goes into the kitchen. 

“You want something to drink?  Cause I do.”  Brian pours a generous amount of Beam into a glass, slams it back in one large gulp then pours another.  He braces his hands on the counter, biting back the taste then looks up at Draco.

"So?"  

“I’m leaving," Draco says simply.  "I’m going back to England.” 

Brian freezes.  Just long enough to slam and lock the iron curtain back down around his heart.  He looks at Draco for a long moment before pouring another shot and taking a long drink back. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t go back," He says, biting back his emotion and the burn of the alcohol all at once.  "You said things were still too up in the air.  Politically, or whatever.”

“Well, things have changed.  A lot of things have changed…”  Draco's voice trails off sadly, his eyes falling to his hands in his lap.

 “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”  Brian's jaw tenses and he nods slowly as he takes in the news.  “I just wanted to to tell you in person before I left.”

“Why?”  He asks, with a defensive shrug.  “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you everything, Brian," Draco insists.

“Jesus!"  Brian shouts, pushing himself away from the counter and striding out of the kitchen.  "Don’t be so fucking dramatic.  All I did was fuck your brains out and give you a place to stay for a few nights.” 

“It was more than that,” Draco says, grabbing his arm as he goes past.  Draco's voice has the steely resolve of one who will not be denied.  Brian's chest rises and falls in short huffs.

“I don’t know why or how, but it was,”  Draco continues, not letting him go.  “It was more.”   _Please say it was more._   “I felt it and I know you did too.”  There is panic in Brian's eyes, but he does not vocalize his denial.  His silence is answer enough. 

He closes his eyes softly, slowly; as if he is letting his mind seek shelter in a better place.  The thin skin at the corner of his eyes wrinkles.  Draco wishes he could kiss his fluttering lids, realizing it is perhaps the last place on his body he has yet to taste.

This bit of heartache is unbecoming on him.  It seems out of place for this unabashed, breathtaking man.  It is not like him, even though the emotion is genuine.  He does not deserve the turmoil Draco has caused.  Casting that shadow of incomplete possibilities over his smoldering, predatorial eyes. 

This is not how Draco wants to leave him.  This is not the image of him he wants to carry home. 

Draco makes a rash decision, one he refuses to regret, if for no other reason than Brian taught him better.  
  
"Brian."  Draco says softly.  Brian's eyes drift open and they glisten. "There's more." 

*

“You’re probably going to want to sit down,”  Draco says. 

Brian gives him another uneasy look, but when Draco gestures towards the couch he goes and sits.  Draco goes to the kitchen to refresh Brian's drink as well as his own.  They're both going to need it.  So on second thought, he just brings the whole bottle. 

Draco has no idea how to even begin to explain this, not having thought that far ahead.  Brian puts his naked feet up on the coffee table and Draco sits down on the table, facing him.  With a deep, cleansing breath, he begins. 

“My full name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy formerly Narcissa Black.   I am their only son and as such, I am heir to one of the largest, oldest and most prosperous estates in England.”  His eyes widen at the mention of the word “heir” but he lets Draco continue. 

“The reason why you have never heard my family’s name, either in the news or in print, is because my kind of people are kept hidden.  Our world - my world - is separate.  You and everyone you know, every aspect of life as you know it is part of a separate sphere of existence that only overlaps with ours on rare occasions.  I have lived, up until moving to Pittsburgh, on a parallel but nearly entirely separate sphere.” 

The bizarre look on his face deepens.  “You are what we call, a muggle.  Where as, I…”  Draco takes a deep breath.  “I am a wizard.” 

“A what now?” He asks, jaw slack in disbelief. 

“A wizard.” 

“And I’m a what?” 

“A muggle.  A non-magical person.” 

He stares, then covers his face with both hands.  “That bitch Anita laced my E again.”  He mumbles.  “You are fucking joking right?”  He says annoyed. 

“No. I’m deadly serious.” 

“So what, you dance around cauldrons and celebrate the Equinox with a giant bon fire?” 

“No, we make potions in cauldrons and we celebrate Christmas with a giant fur tree just like everyone else.  I perform magic, Brian.  I use spells and charms, at times even curses, to affect the world around me.” 

“You’re so full of shit,”  He says, almost laughing, hoping it is some big joke because that would obviously be so much easier to handle than the truth. 

Draco goes to where his coat is flung over the back of Brian's desk chair and retrieves his wand out of the coat pocket.  “I use this.” 

“A magic wand?  Seriously?”  He says skeptically, snorting and rolling his eyes.  “Oh, please…” 

“Accio glass,”  Draco says, flicking his wrist quickly.  Suddenly Brian’s hand is empty of his whiskey and Draco swirls the golden contents before taking a sip. 

“How did you…”  He trails off. 

Draco flash him a sad, ironic grin.  “Magic.” 

Brian drops his head into his hands and starts mumbling to himself.  Draco hears catches of what he is saying.  Something along the lines of this being a bad trip and in the morning it will all be over if he can just sleep it off. 

Draco moves to sit next to him.  When he puts a consoling hand on Brian's shoulder, he flinches and pulls away. 

“Please, Brian.  I’m telling you the truth.  This is who I am.” 

“It’s impossible.”  He spits out.  He stands and starts pacing around the room, seemingly desperate to be anywhere but next to Draco.  For the first time in Draco's life, he understand the horror a muggle born must feel the first time they realize the truth about themselves.  And the fear they must feel that people in their lives will reject them because of it, much like Brian is doing now. 

Draco's only hope is to prove it so that even Brian's rational mind cannot deny it.

“My school.”  Draco starts quickly.  “Not Winchester.  Not Eaton.  Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry in Hogsmeade, Scotland.”  He goes to his jacket again, this time reaching down the sleeves to retrieve his gray and green scarf.  There is a patch at one end, tattered and worn from over use, but as he puts it into Brian’s hands, the lettering is clear on the insignia.  Brian's eyes scan over the words, but it is still clearly not enough for him to believe. 

Draco apparates himself to the landing of his bedroom.  Brian swears loudly, flailing around to follow Draco's impossible movement.  Draco goes to the bed and grabs a pillow. He taps his wand to it and it promptly changes into a long-sleeve, button down shirt made from the same material.  

Then Draco walks quickly to the kitchen and shuffles through Brian's drawers until he finds the biggest knife he can. 

“Draco, what the fuck…” 

Draco silences him with a look, one that demands he follow Draco's gaze.  Very carefully Draco draws the tip of the blade across the palm of his left hand, leaving a thin, straight line of blood in its wake.  He then picks up his wand, showing each movement clearly to Brian.  “Episkey,” He whispers and just as easily as the knife had cut the flesh, the spell makes quick work of sealing it back together. 

Brian doesn’t blink.  He shakes his head slowly.  “It’s impossible.   _Impossible._ ” 

“It is possible, Brian.  It’s possible because it’s true.  I am a wizard.  It’s in my blood, in my bones.  It courses through every cell in my body and affects every aspect of my life.” 

His head continues to move back, shaking 'no' in absolute and total disbelief.  He goes pale, his olive skin becoming a dangerous chalky white.  Draco has the foresight to grab him by the elbows seconds before he falters, light headed and unsteady.

He clutches at Draco's shoulder, pulling on it to keep himself stable.  Draco holds him close, either for support or comfort or both. 

“I just don’t understand,”  He whispers.  His legs become stronger underneath him and he moves closer.  Draco holds him fiercely, never wanting to let him go. 

Draco feels powerful and strong, having done more magic in the last few minutes than in the entire year put together.  He can feel the air on the surface of his skin thrumming with it.  So he releases it, letting is spiral out further.  He wants Brian to feel it.  To believe it once and for all. 

When the boundary of Draco's magic finally reaches him, Brian gasps, a shiver going up his spine.  “What is that?”   

“That’s my magic.  My power.”  His words are nothing more than an intimate whisper against Brian's hair.  “What does it feel like?” 

He thinks for a moment.  “It’s heavy, but light.  Sparkling.  Like clarity and power and…Christ, this is amazing.” 

“Do you believe me now?”  Draco asks, desperate for the assurance. 

“I know I shouldn’t, because Jesus…. but… yes.”  He presses himself so close to Draco there is not even a breath’s width between them.   “I want it inside me.” 

“It is inside of you.  It’s everywhere.  All around us,”  You say, overwhelmed by his reaction. 

“No, I want to feel it inside me.  I want to feel you inside me.”  
  
Draco chokes back a sob when he realizes what Brian means. 

*

Draco pulls back, looking into Brian's eyes that are glazed over with wonder.    
  
“You…want me…to...”  Draco trails off.  
  
“Yes…to fuck me.” 

Draco doesn't need to hear it a second time.  
  
There is a whirl of movements as is clothing ripped away from skin.  Lips and teeth and spit meet in bone shattering kisses accompanied by fiercely drawn breaths and frenzied moans.  Draco cannot be close enough to him.  He fists his hands in Brian's hair and he shoves his hands down the back of Draco's pants, grabbing his ass and shoving their rock hard cocks together.  
  
They stumble up the three stairs to the bedroom.  Limbs knocking as they trip over half removed pants and underwear.  They are both already naked by the time they finally collapse on top of one another on the bed.  
    
Draco cannot quite believe his eyes when Brian rolls onto his stomach.   _He’s serious._   

Draco forces yourself to slow down and savor his perfect body, for what he knows will be one last time.  Every part of Brian is long and lean, twitching underneath Draco's fingertips.    
  
“When was the last time you let someone do this?”  Draco whispers as he straddles himself over the small of Brian's back and begins laying kisses over his neck and shoulders.  
  
“A long time,”  He says, rolling his head to the side so their faces are close together.  
  
“How long is long?”  Draco asks, pull his ear lobe gently into his mouth.  
  
“Long enough.” 

They smile softly at each other, each taking note at the recurring theme between them. 

Draco trails sweet, loving kisses down his back.  His hands touch every inch of him.  He sighs and Brian sighs and it is the only sound Draco ever wants to have fill his ears.  

Draco reaches towards the bedside table, but instead of opening up the drawer, that he knows holds Brian's seemingly endless supply of condoms and lubricant, Draco grabs his wand.  Brian wants to feel magic inside him, so magic he will feel.  
  
Draco whispers a quick charm, one he is glad he still remembers, and warm, magical grade lube coats his fingers.  It is amazingly slick and smooth and he knows from personal experience that once it coats you, it tingles and vibrates on the inside.    
  
Draco sets aside his wand and begins the slow process of getting Brian ready.  There is a spell for this, for stretching him out, softening the skin.  No fingering or lubing required.  There is a spell, it would seem, for everything.  But Draco has realized, there are certain things best done without magic.  And this is one of them.  
  
After all, if he used the spell then Draco would miss the heart stopping feeling at the moment his finger first slips inside.  That first moment when a part of Draco is part of Brian.  He'd miss that burning, internal heat.     
  
Brian pushes back against Draco's hand, tells him when he is ready for a second finger to be added.  He almost tops from the bottom, setting the pace, leading the action.  But it is all fine by Draco, ready to give Brian whatever he needs to make him comfortable.    
  
Once Draco can move three fingers slowly but with little resistance, he speaks.  
  
“Do it,”  Brian says, his eyes still closed as if focused on what is about to happen.  
  
Draco reaches for a condom and opens it.  The prophylactic properties of the lube Draco used is all but foolproof, but now is not the time to give Brian the magical safe-sex lecture.  It would be an intense leap of faith, one that Draco does not think Brian is ready to give.  So he decides to sacrifice the incredible act of fucking Brian raw, for the equally implausible able act of fucking him at all.

Draco lays on top of him, steadying himself at Brian's entrance and just as he begins to slide in, he whispers, “Thank you.”  
  
Brian moans, both from Draco's sincere words and the pressure of his cock filling him. Draco is still for a moment, kissing his neck and shoulders. Then it Brian who pushes back, his legs working against the velvet of his comforter cover.  
  
Draco cannot believe the tightness, the closeness.  The heat and the immaculate feeling of his flesh.  Draco is inside him and on top of him and all around him, and yet he feels Brian inside him too.    
  
They move together, slowly.  Brian's body reacting so naturally to Draco's.  The tingle of Draco's magic lapping over their conjoined skin. Brian gasps, too overwhelmed for moans or cries.  Being with Brian like this feels like nothing Draco has ever felt.  He feels transported.  He feels beautiful.  
  
“Can you feel it?  Can you feel me?"  Draco asks, after a few minutes of this slow, tender fucking.    
  
“Yes...incredible.”  He moans back.    
  
That is the turning point where Draco begins to slip over the edge.   But, with every thrust, Draco remembers:  This is the end.  
  
It is the last time and knowing that makes it all the more spectacular.  Makes it glow even brighter.  Makes everything feel ten times more powerful.  Draco memorizes the way Brian moves beneath him.  The way Brian's hair cascades against his pillow.  The way his lips part as he moans.  Draco memorizes the sound of his skin slapping against skin and the tragic combination of sorrow and obsession this entire scenario makes him feel.  
  
_I will not forget.  I will never forget._       
  
That becomes his mantra as his hips pound, hammering their way to blissful conclusion.  Draco comes, blindly, his eyes pressed closed.  Imprinting Brian's image onto his mind, tucking it away into a place where it will be safe forever.  Brian follows shortly, with little more than a resigned whimper passing his lips.        
  
Draco lays down next to him, their hearts pounding in unison.  Brian is completely done in.  As is Draco.    
  
He unsheathes his cock and Brian is immediately there, reaching for him.    
  
"That was..."  He cannot find the right words so Draco kisses him instead.  After their lips part, Draco rests his head on Brian's chest.  "Why did you tell me?"  
  
"I needed you to know that I'm not leaving to go work at the Trafalgar Square Starbucks.  I'm leaving to return to my world.  I'm returning to the place where I belong.  Or at least, I used to.  There is important work to be done and I think I can make a difference."   
  
"Like your father?"  
  
"No.  I'm not my father."  They share a smile, recognizing another Kinney lesson learned.  "I'd forgotten so much, Brian but you reminded me.  And for that I will be forever grateful."  
  
"How'd I do that?"  
  
Draco brushes a lock of Brian's hair away from his forehead.  "By being you."

Brian is silent, humbled by Draco's simple words.  His eyes flutter, so very tired.  His mind seeking the blankness of sleep, the one place where he can finally process all he has just learned.    
  
"Sleep,"  Draco whispers, his hand stroking the plane of Brian's back.  
  
"You'll be here?"  He asks, his voice almost trembling.  "When I wake up…you'll be here?  I want to hear more about this magical world of yours."  His lips curl up into a sleepy grin.  
  
"I'll be here.  I'll tell you all about it."  Draco smiles back, but his eyes speak the true reality.    
  
"Promise?"  He asks anyway.

It is too easy to lie when they both want to hear it. 

"I promise."        
  
Draco holds him lightly, stroking his back as he drifts off.  Draco nuzzles his face into Brian's neck and breathes him in, already trying to concoct the potions recipe in his head that will mimic his smell.  Draco waits until Brian's chest rises and falls easily.  It does not take long.      
  
Draco looks at him and he realizes he could love a man.  He could love him.  He could spend his life waking up in this bed, living in this world, sharing this life if only Brian would let him.  Draco would be happy with him.  And Draco would make him happy in return.   
  
Tears sting his eyes.  The burn of a sob catches in his throat but he wills it down, afraid he'll wake him.  Brian will not feel this  pain and he takes some comfort in that.    
  
For the briefest moment Draco wonders if there is another way.  If Brian would, perhaps, come with along.  Or he could simply fall asleep beside Brian and never go to meet Potter, continue to hide in this muggle world forever.     
  
But this is not where Draco Malfoy belongs.  He is ready to face the challenges ahead of him upon returning to England. He would not have been ready when he first came to Pittsburgh.  He wasn't ready six months ago.  Hell, he wasn't ready last week.  But now... now he is strong.   
  
Draco focuses his mind on Brian's and it is easy to penetrate his unconsciousness.   He pulls forward what he needs.  Memories.  Moments.  Every last one of the two of them together.  He is surprised when there are so many.  Or perhaps it is not their quantity, but their importance that makes them feel so heavy.  Draco clutches them close to you; cradles them gently as one should with something so precious.  He takes one last look at Brian's resting face.  His jaw slightly slack, his cheeks still flushed.  His beauty is almost unbearable.    
  
So he takes a deep breath, settling his resolve, and rests the tip of his wand to Brian's temple. He hopes his voice will be strong enough when he whispers,  
  
"Obliviate."

 

*

 

EPILOUGE

 

 _“I’ll be back.  And you’ll come there.  We’re going to see each other all the time.”  
  
“You don’t know that.  Neither do I.  But whether it’s next weekend, next month…or never again.  It doesn’t matter. It’s only time.”  
  
There is sadness in  his voice.  But also maturity and acceptance.  Trust.  And most importantly, love.  The blond standing in front  of him has beautiful blue eyes.  And they smile sadly at him now, reflecting those same feelings back at him.  They hurt, but they too are strong.  The man knows this is not an ending for them.  It is just the next step on what will be their forever.  They kiss, desperately, and the image fades away..._  
  
Draco's eyes snap open, a gasp escaping his lips.  He looks at the clock ticking steadily on the bedside table.  3:14am.      
  
He takes a peek to make sure his dream hasn't disturbed his sleeping companion.  The other man breathes even and steady.  Draco runs his fingers through that unruly hair which he has become so desperately fond of over the years.  The man stirs, but does not wake.  
  
Far too awake to fall back asleep, Draco gets up, grabbing a robe, and pads out into the living room.  The Manor is still shrouded in darkness, but light from the full moon and the clear sky spill through the large bay windows.    
  
The moonlight casts shadows across the garden, though there is little greenery to be seen.  It is March and the buds are just starting to appear.  In a few weeks the lawns with burst with new green.  The color of spring.  The color of redemption.  Draco loves the spring.  
  
Draco pulls his robe closer around him, tying the thin satin sash tighter.  The dream has left him feeling as they often do.  Nostalgic and slightly uneasy.   
  
He had left Brian's apartment immediately after casting the spell.  If he had done the spell right, Brian had woken the next morning, feeling slightly hungover with memories of some fantastic shag.  The time they had spent together swept clean of specific memories, leaving him with a general feeling of contentment, openness and companionship.  But Brian would have no memory of magic or strange scars.  No memory of Draco.  
  
Sometimes he still wonders if removing the memories was the right thing to do.  Wondered, but never regretted, if he should have just left them there.  Aside from the fact that having told Brian that he's a wizard broke countless Statute of Secrecy laws, and removing them helped to cover his ass, the truth was far more selfish.    
  
Draco could not live with the thought of Brian missing him.   The few days they had together had seemed...unreal.  In his loft, some alternate reality had formed where it wasn't scary to take chances.  It became a place where Draco had opened up to a stranger, revealing his inner most core.  But Draco had realized that Brian deserved that freedom all the time.  Not just for a few days.  And he deserved to find that with someone else, without the memories of their inexplicable affair getting in the way.  
  
_Two days._ Draco thinks again, snorting softly to himself.  He has yet to understand why he felt so connected to Brian.  Had it been love?  No, not yet.  Given time it might have been.  It had, however, been understanding and awe.  Intense attraction and facination.  Compassion and curiosity.  It was recognizing similarities that spanned their ages, nationalities and innate natures, to bind them together on a much more basic level. Draco had needed someone to wake him up and Brian had not failed.  
  
Draco hears the tell tale sounds of footsteps coming down the marble staircase and he turns, anticipating the company.  Whatever it was he had felt for Brian, it was nothing like this.  
  
Nothing like what he feels for Harry.  
  
He had portkeyed back with Potter - back when he still referred to him as Potter  - who had been surprisingly kind enough not to ask why his eyes were red and puffy that morning.  He instead offered him a well made cup of tea and asked, "Ready?"    
  
Draco had moved back into the Manor, giving himself some time to acclimatize back to being a wizard and a Malfoy, safely under the security of his mother’s roof.  Hidden away from the prying eyes of Rita Skeeter and the rest of the Prophet staff who wanted to know where little Malfoy Jr. had been hiding for the past year and a half.   
  
It was during this time that Draco had his first dream.    
_  
Brian walked into Woody’s.  A busy evening just like it had been the last time he had been there.  He looked beautiful and healthy. Walking with that cocky swagger of his.  He found Michael and kissed him briefly on the lips.  Michael beamed up at his best friend, looking at him with clearly more than platonic feelings and asked “Where’s Draco?”  Giving your name the same kind of treatment you had so often given Potter’s.  A curious smile flitted across Brian’s lips, as if the sound of your name should make him happy.  Though he couldn't understand why, considering he'd never heard it before.  Then his brow furrowed and he asked, “Who’s Draco?”.  Michael had smiled, glad to see order restored and the dream had faded away._  
  
He hadn't thought much of the dream at the time.  It seemed perfectly natural, really.  Just a way for his brain to process what had happened, giving him a little snippet of what he hoped might happen to Brian.        
  
Harry had come to visit the next day claiming it was a follow up with the Aurors.  But he confessed to Draco later that it was because he thought Draco's arse looked amazing in muggle trousers.  Which, of course, it did.  And still does.  
  
Draco smiles at Harry now as he joins him in the sitting room, rubbing his sleepy eyes.  Harry's pajama pants ride low on his hips, his nipples hardened on his bare chest by the cool night air.  His hair is flung about in countless directions, but this haphazard look only makes Draco smile brighter.  He turns back toward the window as Harry comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Draco from behind.  While once Harry had sported the slight, lithe frame of a Seeker, Draco much prefers the strong, filled out form of an Auror.    
  
"I didn't mean to wake you,"  Draco says softly, pulling Harry's arms even closer like a second robe.  
  
"The bed got cold without you."  
  
"I told you it was too big,"  You remark snidely.  
  
"It was the only size that made any sense in that insanely large room you insist is the Master bedroom and not a second ballroom."  He snips back.  
  
It has only been a few weeks since they'd moved back to the Manor, cohabiting for the first time.  It had been a mutual decision, made once Draco's mother decided to spend the remainder of her retirement in France with Jaques or Julles or whoever the hell the beau of the month was.  Harry had surprised everyone with his good interior design sense. 

"He is gay after all, ladies and gentlemen," Draco had joked, upon coming home to see the formal dining room decorated in tasteful shades of blue and tan.    
  
"Another dream?"  He asks, mood shifting from playful to concerned.  Draco nods and Harry holds on tighter.  
  
Draco had stayed at the Manor until late summer, finally moving into a flat of his own in Diagon Alley.  He had taken his NEWTs, passing with flying colors, and had plans to start a Potions apprenticeship that fall.  He hadn't been sure if being a Potions Master was his life calling, but it was something and it had nothing to do with Voldemort, so that was good enough to start.  
  
It was only a few weeks after moving to London that the second dream came.    
  
_He saw so much during that dream it was hard to comprehend.  Whirling images of another blond boy.  Young.  Younger, even, than you.  He had an air of innocence about him, yet when he talked to Brian he tried to sound brave.  Then there was a baby and a women you didn't recognize.  Starry sky and roof ledges and then an image of Brian and the blond boy in bed together. "I want you to remember this.  So that no matter who you're ever with, I'll always be there."_  
  
That was the first dream that gave him pause.  He had never seen this blond boy before in his life and he couldn't help but wonder if an unconscious mind was capable of creating its own characters.  With some research, Draco discovered, that yes, your brain can insert people into dreams that may or may not be real.  They are often composites of people one does know or have seen in passing, however. 

It was during this research that Draco's obsession with the human mind was born and he decided not to start Potions training after all, but instead applied for Mediwizard school.  
  
"So what was it of this time?" Harry asks.  
  
"He's leaving."  
  
"Who is?"  
  
"Justin."  
  
"Where is he going?  
  
"New York."  
  
"Oh.  That's strange.  Weren't they supposed to get married?"  
  
"Yeah, but...they decided that wasn't right for them.  That they didn't need to be married to be together."  Draco thinks for a minute.  "It's a good thing."  
  
Harry yawns.  "Well, good."  
  
He knows all about Brian.  All about the dreams.  He knows everything about Draco and still loves him for it.  The Savior of the Wizarding world and a son of a powerful Death Eater, with a Dark Mark all his own, is perhaps not the most likely couple, but they are strong and in love and every day Draco is thankful to have him.  
  
It had started simply.  "Accidental" encounters in Diagon Alley that changed to planned meetings for drinks or dinner.  Gradually, they had made that awkward transition from sworn enemy to easy friend.  Realizing their lives were not so very different: bound by expectations that robbed each of you from even being "normal".   
  
And it was over drinks, a nice bottle of Shiraz shared on Draco's couch, that he realized the heavy look in Potter's eyes was not contempt or pity, but attraction.  It took that first, bumbling kiss to learn, that beneath his heroic facade, Harry was just a man looking for companionship.  And it took waking up the next morning, with Harry in his arms, to realize Draco must be gay, because he wanted to wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life.  
  
His mother had been skeptical.  The Prophet had been grateful for the media frenzy their relationship caused.  The Minister had praised it as a "sign of the times".  But neither Draco nor Harry had paid much attention,  too amazed by how wonderful it was to be young and in love.  
  
It was spring time when Draco dreams again of Pittsburgh.   
  
_"It was the best night of my life."  
  
"Even if it was ridiculously romantic."  
  
Sweet, sweet kisses.  Coated in tenderness and blossoming love.  But then flashes of Brian covered in blood.  Tears streaming down his face.  The shout of the name "Justin" as the blond had been attacked.  There had been so much sadness.  So much fear.  Brian's grief and guilt.  The uncertainty. Life and death hanging in the balance._  
  
This dream had felt different  More like a vision than a nightmare.  When Draco had woken up, panting and covered in sweat, he had this overwhelming feeling that what he had just seen was real.  His family hadn't produced a seer in generations but it was not entirely unheard of even if the gift of foresight manifested itself at an earlier age and usually in women.    
  
Harry had reached out for Draco that night, not unfamiliar with waking to nightmares of his own and pulled Draco against him.  He had run soothing hands over Draco's trembling body and whispered "It was only a dream."  But Draco had started to wonder.   
  
Draco leans back now, so he can look at Harry's face.  It is a few years older than it had been then but still makes his heart flutter.  He eyes are closed, looking like he has almost fallen asleep standing up.  
  
"Go back to bed."  
  
"You coming with me?"  
  
"In a minute.  I still feel a little weird."  
  
"Why?"  He says softly.  
  
Draco sighs.  "I just wish I knew.  For certain."  
  
"Whether or not everything you dream about Pittsburgh is real?"  Draco nods, silently.  "When is England's top neuro-wizard going to believe his own research?  Hmm?"  He asks, pulling Draco closer.  Draco laughs gently at Harry's tone, knowing he is right.  _Bloody Gryffindor is always right._  
  
After the last, terrible dream, they started coming more frequently.    
_  
Blue lights and love making when the blond was on the mend.  Healed in the body, if no place else.  "I want you inside me."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Admission finally that this meant something.  That he cared.  That he wanted him here.    
"And when I come home, I'll be doing exactly what I want to do...coming home to you."   
  
Later on there were visions tinged with red and darkness, jealousy.     
  
"He loves me."  
  
"Your starry-eyed school boy."  
  
"In ways you can't."  
  
"In ways I won't."  
  
Then unexpected pain.  Heartache.  And worst, of all...regret, regret, regret._  
  
By the end of his second year in Mediwizard school, the dreams...visions...whatever the hell he was calling them, had become so regular and clear, that he knew they were not simple dreams.  He was convinced he was seeing Brian's life.  
  
For his graduation thesis, he started research on the after effects of memory altering spells.   Delving through the archives at Saint Mungo's to find if there were any other cases where people experienced the same kind of connection he was.    
  
He had been shocked to find the number of cases where people had.    
  
The dreams, as he decided to call them as they always appeared while he was sleeping, arrived in fits and spurts.  He had one half way through that last year of school, that had been so full of love and relief and reconciliation that it had left him feeling giddy for the rest of the week.   _"I've decided you should take me back."  The young blond coming into his own.  And Brian's heart mended all with a simple "Oh?_ "  
  
His research showed that this phenomenon always seemed to affect those who had altered the memories of a loved one, or of one to whom you felt incredibly close.  It usually involved spells that removed large quantities of memories, where the slate was wiped almost completely clean of a specific event or a person.  Nearly half of the examples you found where when a wizard had used a mind altering spell on a muggle.    
  
In other words, it was exactly what had happened with him and Brian.  
  
He had written up the thesis.  The paper had been a huge success in the Magical Medical Journal.  He had given talks on his findings all over England, France, even once going to New York City.  He was praised for his insight into such a rare condition, all the while his glowing public was completely unaware that he himself was experiencing the symptoms.  
  
The dreams were especially strong after his trip back to the States.   
  
_Pain, but of a different kind.  Sharp physical pain.  Illness.  Sickness.  "It's a common type of cancer in men your age."  His doctors were optimistic, but he felt disgusted.  Ashamed to be in his own skin.  This imperfect form.  Simple, little lies about going to Ibiza to cover up the truth.  Afraid no one would love him anymore, especially Justin._  
  
He had wanted so desperately to go to him.  Just to see him and make sure he was alright.  He claimed it would be part of his research.    
  
But then he had another vision. 

 _One of slow and steady healing.  Mixed with anger and shame.  "Now get your ass back in bed, you son of a bitch.  And eat some fucking chicken soup."  The blond boy, who was rapidly become a man, had shouted in his head.  And Brian had submitted.  He liked this Justin fellow._    
  
So he never went to Pittsburgh because ultimately he was too afraid.  Afraid to have his work disproved, even though the facts were irrefutable.  He was also afraid at having his research confirmed.  Proof that he really were given a window into Brian's most private thoughts.  But most of all, he was afraid of seeing Brian and having him look past him like a stranger.    
  
Draco shivers.    
  
"Come on, love.  Come to bed with me."  Harry's voice changes.  "We don't have to sleep."  His hand creeps in between the folds of Draco's robe, then slides down his stomach and under the band of his pants.  
  
Draco smiles gently, "Hmm...now that I could be convinced of."  
  
"Do you have any idea what you do to me, Draco?"  Harry says, palming his cock gently.  Draco sighs at the familiar touch.  Harry knows just how to hold him, to stroke him.  Exactly what to do to blow his mind each and every time.    
  
Draco presses his ass back against Harry's hardening cock to show him exactly what he's in the mood for.    
  
"I love you, Dray."  
  
"I love you too, Harry."    
  
Harry grabs his hand, pulling him in the direction of their bedroom.  In that moment, his mind is full of only one brunet, the only man he has ever loved completely.  The one with a silly scar on his forehead and the one who Draco hopes will agree to a bonding ceremony under the Willow trees this summer.  If only Draco can work up the courage to ask.  
  
His life is everything he wanted it to be.  Full of love and friendship.  A career where you make positive changes in people's lives.  He has the respect of his peers and the Magical world at large.  His future is full of hope  
  
But he cannot help but feel contented to know that he will continue to be visited, however infrequently, by images of the man who made it all possible.    
  
The man back in Pittsburgh, with no memory of Draco at all.  The man with no idea that Draco sees what he sees.  Feels what he feels.  The man whom Draco cares about, with all the fondness of a former lover and friend.  The man, who by sharing himself with Draco, gave you the inspiration to try again. 

Brian is not encumbered by strange memories, of that blond English boy with the bizarre tattoo.  Instead his brain is filled by visions of another blond boy.  The one who changed everything in his life for the better.  The one who he fell in love with.  
  
And that you realize, is exactly as it should be.

 

_fin_

 

 


End file.
